Carrier
by neonnex
Summary: "What're you standing around for, dumbass?" Gil gives one last blood-stained grin where he's slumped back against the wall, the bite mark on his neck bleeding profusely. His friend is silent when the fuse is lit, his expression dejected yet resigned. "Run, boy, RUN." [Zombie!AU/AH] [DISCONTINUED]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N (For those of you who are watchers for my other works):** I know it's been a _long_ time since I've updated any of my stories, but again, I promise you that they _will_ be completed. _Meus _and _Non Vedo, Non Sento, Non Parlo _are the shorter of the four and will be worked on after _Carrier_ is completed. I apologize but _O'Death_ and _The Sky Belongs to Us_ will be last. Unlike the others, their plot lines are _so_ convoluted and all over the place, that those are gonna take a fair amount of time for me to go through and fix. I may even end up rewriting them. If I do do that, the basic plot and story mechanisms will all be the same, but these are some of my earliest works so there's so much unnecessary information and such that I simply can't work with them anymore. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

**A/N (For the rest of y'all):** Geeks/infected/walkers = stereotypical zombies (**note:** this is not the Walking Dead universe, but I do so love the term "geek" for zombies and I wanted to incorporate it into this story. There's also certain mechanics that I liked from that universe, and wanted to use, but those'll be revealed in the story. I don't wanna spoil anything.)

Amateur medical stuff is amateur. But I tried my best and did some basic research. Took one of Antonio's wounds straight from the Huffington post that covered Azizulhasni Awang, if you're interested. I tried posting the link but this site is being weird. I'm sure you'll be able to find it without a problem though.

Also! I just wanted to say that this story is already half-way completed and is sort of my "welcome back from hiatus!" gift to myself. There are going to be about 5-6 chapters total and I have 3 already done. I just wanted to post the first chapter prematurely to help give that final push for the last 2-3. My goal this year is to write more and post something at least once a week, no excuses! If people demand more chapters then that'll help motivate me. Though of course I'd love to hear what you think, and constructive criticism is always nice :) So I'll be uploading a new chapter every Thursday until its completion, so please keep me accountable!

**WARNINGS (PLEASE READ): **Allusions to suicidal thoughts, survivor's guilt, gore, explicit violence, explicit language, "off-screen" character death(s), explicit sexual content, attempted gang rape (I can promise you right now though that it _won't _be followed through. But there will also be another warning in the chapter it's in so you _will_ be getting a heads up) and a fair amount angst. Lots of angst. But the world is kinda fucked over so that's to be expected. There'll also be equal amounts of fluff that makes you wanna puke rainbows though, so it'll hopefully all balance out. You've been warned.

Thank you to those who read this long ass author's note (I promise the others won't be this long, I just felt like there was so much to say after my almost 2 year hiatus), and I hope you like the story!

xx decorusvita

* * *

Everything _hurt_, but he did what he was told and kept on running. Even with the giant splinter in his calf that meant he had to limp the entire goddamn way. He couldn't —_ wouldn't_ — let Gil's sacrifice be in vain. He had to get far away enough before the bomb went off. He had to—

_BOOM_

The force of the impending explosion violently hurls the man forward and slams him right onto the broken windshield of a long-abandoned car.

Then everything for Antonio goes dark.

-o0o-

The explosion immediately catches my attention — how could it _not_? — and I take a moment to stop scavenging the cupboards for supplies to glance over the countertop and through the broken window, catching sight of the billowing smoke a short distance away. It had to be a couple blocks, at most.

"Fucking shit," I mutter to myself, quickly grabbing whatever useful is in reach before putting it into my knapsack. I sling it over my back and automatically secure the buckles into place, all the while moving over to the window in order to try and get a better look.

"Must've been in some pretty deep shit to pull a stunt like that…," I muse grimly, different scenarios beginning to play through my mind. But just as quickly as each one comes, I shake it off. _Well_, I think to myself, making sure my knapsack is secure one more time before hopping onto the counter to exit back out the window. _Might as well go check out the area for supplies. Geeks'll be swarming in for _**_miles_**_._

-o0o-

I land on the pavement with a soft _thump_, carefully maneuvering myself to keep close to the building's side as I glance around for any survivors. But other than the dozens of geeks and burning debris, there wasn't anyone in sight.

Good.

I push away from the wall and past my first random geek, not even pausing when it growls in confusion, lunging itself close enough to sniff at my flesh, trying to figure me out. Its nose even manages to graze right along my throat but I continue to walk past it, like nothing happened.

My heart rate doesn't even stutter.

It never does. Not by a _geek_, anyway.

I continue to glance around at the surrounding buildings for any survivors out of habit, cataloguing any shifty movements in the windows. When I continue to find none, I navigate the waves of geeks towards the burning building. The flames are going loud and strong; the smell of smoke is so heavy in the air that I almost miss it at first, before _something_ catches my attention. My eyes flash immediately to the car in front of me, and—

W-Wha…

What the _fuck_?

How the man is still alive and not already being devoured by the surrounding geeks is beyond me.

For the first time in a long time though, I actually feel my heart stutter. He…

_He isn't_**_ infected_**_. _

It takes a fair amount of concentration, but now that I focus hard enough I can smell him underneath all the smoke, and he's _pure. _Not a single hint of the infection is in his blood.

The last time I actually saw someone who wasn't infected was…_fuck_, it's been such a long time…

His incoherent groaning snaps me back to reality and when he starts writhing around in pain, I realize that _that_ was what caught my initial attention, and I don't have to look around me to know that the other geeks are starting to notice him now too.

I let out a particularly vicious curse and without sparing an extra thought to wonder what the _flying _**_fuck _**_I was doing,_ I slide out the emergency hunting knife from the sheath attached to my thigh and stab the nearest geek right in between the eyes. It actually looks comically confused, even as I place a hand on its shoulder to jerk the knife right back out.

Everything from then on rushes by in a rapid blur, but I become hyper aware of little things. Like the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the sound of the knife's _clang _on the ground, the geek's brittle bones that break through all too easily when I shove my hand into its chest cavity, the small pinpricks of pain in my fingers when I finally grab hold of the rotting heart and yank it out.

There's no hesitation; no pause.

There can't be. Not if I want him to live.

So I don't waste any time. I take the heart and squeeze the cold organ, using so much pressure that the now gelatinous muscle gushes between my fingers and oozes between each digit. I can feel pieces get stuck underneath my fingernails when I harshly rub it into the back of the man's shirt and smear it all over his neck and hair. Everywhere that his scent was the strongest, I covered. He needed to _reek_. If any geek becomes even _remotely_ aware of what he really is, then…

I force the possible scenarios out of my mind. Later. _Focus_.

I quickly unbuckle my bad and throw it onto the ground before maneuvering the man around so that I can ease him onto my back. He keeps gasping in pain and I can't help but flinch at the sound, but otherwise I ignore it, knowing that there simply isn't any_ time_.

Somehow, we make it back to the condo without a hitch.

I was actually fast enough to cover up his scent, so it left the geeks who briefly smelled him confused and disoriented.

For a moment, it almost feels like God exists again.

Almost.

Because if _He _exists then Feliciano would still be alive, now wouldn't he?

-o0o-

Fuck, _why _did I do that, dammit?!

I-I don't even…

_Why_ did I take some random man back to my condo — _of all places_ — before heading over to the nearest hospital? Now I'm here in the goddamn Foggy Bottom district because there's _sure_ to be all the medical supplies I'll need to treat him and…and I didn't even _think_. Fuck, I just left my knife and knapsack just lying there in the street and made a fucking _fantastic _split-second decision to save some idiot's life and I just…

Jeez, just what is _wrong _with me?

There's no difference between me and the next fucking geek! What am I suppose to do now, huh? If I so much as _breathe_ in his face, then he'll—

I can't control the violent shudder that runs through my body before forcing myself to take a deep, shaky, breathe because _fuck_. No, seriously. _Fuck._

I…_fuck_, okay. Okay. It doesn't matter. It's too late to go back now. I can't just fucking…I-I don't know, drop him off somewhere and leave him to die. Because that's what's going to happen if I don't treat him ASAP. He needs to be treated and treated soon, so…so maybe if I'm _really_ careful, and make sure to always cover my mouth, then maybe, j-just _maybe_…

Right…

Right.

The tremor in my hands isn't as bad when I go to grab a bulk of surgical masks from the shelf and stuff them into the garbage bag along with everything else I could possibly need.

Okay… this can work.

It has to.

-o0o-

I finally allow myself a sigh of relief when I finish cleaning him up, looking over to asses him one more time to make sure I got everything. Nothing more could be done about the major muscle bruising all over his chest, nor the small cuts here and there… but the dislocated shoulder was set back into its proper place, and the thin wooden shard removed from his calf.

There's no doubt that he'll be in a fuck-ton of pain when he wakes up, but god_damn_ what a lucky son-of-a-bitch. The shard didn't pierce through anything vital as far as I could tell. Not only that, but when I carefully pulled it out I noticed that it somehow broke itself, practically right smack in the middle, so the muscles actually had a chance of not tearing apart any more then what was already done. If he's lucky enough, he may even make a full recovery. The only thing we need to worry about now is if it severed any blood vessels, which is possible, but without a CT scan it's just impossible to know for sure.

Satisfied for now, I sit back in my chair and that's when my whole body suddenly feels absolutely shitty and rundown, the adrenaline finally wearing off after hours of anxiety and worry. It's a bad idea on_ so _**_many_**_ levels _— there's a random ass man in the condo, _remember? _— but I can't be bothered and my neck instead relaxes back onto the headrest.

I close my eyes, feeling the warm slime underneath my fingernails because of the sterile gloves I'm still wearing, but I can't find myself caring all too much. Sleep first, then I'll clean up… Sleep is good.

Hopefully the man won't freak out _too_ much if he wakes up before me. Being covered in blood and guts probably won't help, but I'm fucking tired and goddamn, not getting killed in my sleep would be nice.

Although maybe… maybe finally disappearing into nothingness wouldn't be so bad after all. Especially if I'm asleep.

Right…?

Feliciano?

The last thing I remember before drifting off is my brother's soulless eyes staring into mine right after his teeth ripped off the flesh of Ludwig's cheek.

-o0o-

A pained grunt cuts through the darkness and jolts me awake with a start. I immediately straighten up in my seat and glance around to the door and boarded windows, straining my ears for any more suspicious sounds.

"Where'm I?"

My head snaps over to see unfocused emerald eyes looking around the room, noticing how they never stay on the same spot for too long.

"Where'm I?" he repeats in a slur, his head continuing to loll around on the mattress in awkward angles as he becomes more and more restless, "Everything's _wrong_, what— "

"Hey, hey," I try to soothe, all the while scrambling out my chair and coming over to kneel besides where he's resting on my bed, just in case he tries anything stupid. Like attempting to get up and move around. "You're in Georgetown. You needed to be patched up and this place is secure. What you're feeling right now is the oxycontin but don't worry; I only gave you enough to take the edge off so you could rest more easily. Didn't wanna risk giving you an overdose." I pause a moment before mumbling somewhat hesitantly, "Sorry."

The man stares at me like he just noticed me being there, frowning for several long seconds. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and you can practically _hear_ the cogs turning until—

"Dios mío, your eyes are beautiful."

For the first time in recent memory my face heats up in honest-to-god _embarrassment_, especially when the man just looks at my face in complete awe.

"I'm covered in blood and geek guts and _that's_ your first thought?" I ask incredulously, with it now being my turn to watch the man in fascination when the tan skin of his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink. His eyes seem to clear up at my words though and he glances down my frame, eyes widening when he finally takes in my whole appearance.

"A-Ah. Well. Would'ja look at that…"

…

Now's _probably _the time when I should say something "friendly" to take the edge off and reassure him. Or some shit. But what comes out of my mouth is:

"Fucking relax, will ya? I _am_ the guy that patched your ass up."

I have to control the sudden urge to slam my head into the nearest wall.

Dear god, what was _that_?

The man's lips twitch at the corners.

"So you've had your hands pretty full with my ass then, huh?"

I gape at the man and somehow it's entirely possible for my face to get even _hotter _and his mouth twists into a full-blown grin, as if he's actually fucking _proud_ of himself. That bastard!

"I-I… T-That… _What_—"

The man's small chuckle quickly turns into a loud gasp of pain, with him clutching his side on instinct. He uses the wrong arm however and hisses in surprise at the new wave of pain he's sure to be feeling in his shoulder.

"Don't move so much, idiot. _Shit_," I mutter, idly moving his arm back into its original position with gentle, yet firm, hands before _very _carefully applying pressure to his ribs. It doesn't take much before he gasps in pain again and I immediately let up, "_Fuck_. Yeah. That's a fractured rib, alright. Maybe even broken?" I continue to mumble to myself, letting the familiar train of thoughts wash over me as I focus intently on the new development, "Jeez, you really are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, you know that? Your lungs could've easily been punctured while I was lugging you around earlier, if I only had an x— "

I come back to myself with a jolt when I realize I'm fucking _rambling_ and forcibly close my mouth shut with an audible _snap_. The man doesn't say anything at first, he's not even given me a "look" so much as he's watching me like… like the situation finally hit him and he just can't quite figure out _why _I'm doing all of this.

Well, that fucking makes two of us. Join the club…

"I don't even know your name," he finally murmurs, the statement completely throwing me off-guard. I realize that before that moment, I never even thought of asking something so simple, so _human_.

"Lovino. My name's Lovino." The words sound strange on my tongue. Foreign. I haven't shared my name in such a long time.

"Lo-_vee_-no," the man enunciates carefully, as if getting a feel for it before he smiles at me and…and _fuck_, I can't help but openly stare at how relaxed and _happy_ he looks. _How_? It feels like another lifetime ago since I've felt either. "I'm Antonio… Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** In this story, Emma is Belgium and Daan is Netherlands. Also, for future reference, all translations will be at the bottom of the chapters when applicable.

Oh, and the first song I imagined being played in the background is _Crystallize_, by Lindsey Stirling. In case you're interested.

Also, sorry I uploaded this so late! I ended up rewriting a _huge_ chunk of it and have been writing and editing all day sSeriously, where did the time go?!). It also became much more emotional for me to write then I thought it would. Must've done something right then :) Enjoy!

xx decorusvita

* * *

_About 4 Weeks Later…_

-o0o-

"Are you fucking serious? Really? You want to do that _now?_"

I watch in fascination as the man's cheeks become an even _darker_ shade of red_,_ his honeyed eyes now narrowed sharp as they glare at me over the surgical mask. The mask is, like always, held securely in place, concealing the lower half of his face and all the possible ways his mouth could be set. I wonder if he's scowling? Pouting, maybe? No...no, he'd be scowling, I'm sure of it. He doesn't seem the type to actually _pout_ (although it'd be so very adorable if he does), but would his lips be chapped? Smooth? I wonder how it'd feel to—

I fiercely trample down the rest of those thoughts right then and there, though the image still somehow manages to burn itself in my mind regardless, even without knowing _exactly _what his lips looks like, though I swear I can almost feel them. And all the possible shapes and textures—

"Please?" I beg all too quickly, forcing myself to focus instead on the topic at hand and keeping my offered hand outstretched towards him, just now remembering Lovino's instructions and shifting my weight off of my almost-healed leg. I can't help but let out a disappointed huff when he doesn't budge an inch. "This is the first time I've been out of the apartment in weeks and it'll be fun! I promise. Just one dance, that's all I'm asking."

Lovino doesn't respond as the music is softly playing in the background, the battery-operated speakers I've somehow managed to find carrying the tune through the desolate room. The lone violin gives the tune a classical feel, the notes morose sounding despite the definite edge of upbeat dubstep accompanying it.

Even with the dubstep, Francis would've loved it. In fact he would've _demanded_ a dance.

And Gilbert would've groaned dramatically on the floor, rolling around and whining about how fucking sappy we were being while Emma would happily ignore him and instead giggle about how romantic she thought it all was, how wonderful it was that what we had could still exist in the world, even after everything. Daan would be rolling his eyes at them and acting like he didn't agree with either of them, all the while calling it a huge waste of time, but he'd never admit that he actually _did _find it rather—

Fingertips that are surprisingly calloused are placed along my cheek, barely there, but somehow they're enough to stop my thoughts right in their tracks. I blink rapidly and notice how Lovino is now standing right in front of me, so close now that you'd think our shoes should be touching.

He doesn't say anything as he looks at me. There's...there's no pity or even compassion in his gaze, just…understanding. Acknowledgment. Like he's fully aware of how much I've lost, how each and every one of my friends' deaths will be forever burned into my very soul, how I couldn't save them and dear God, _why_ am I still here? _Why_—?

"Antonio…?" Lovino's question is barely a whisper but it's somehow enough to stop those thoughts again... for now, at least, especially when his fingertips slide towards the back of my neck, pressing into the muscle firmly, but gently. I can't help but notice though how he keeps the rest of himself a firm distance away, and despite the hand on my neck being..._intimate_, almost alarmingly so, his distance also keeps it strangely clinical in nature. It's…_odd_. But it's safe. _Grounding_, even. Not at all suffocating. It's actually really soothing...

I don't know what my face is doing but Lovino raises an eyebrow up at me, his silent question spoken loud and clear, despite the obvious out that his silence offers.

_Do you wanna talk about them now?_

Always the same question, when he looks at me like that, and before I'd always give the same, silent response… expressed through an even brighter smile, and a forced laugh that always sounds a little too strained, even to me.

_Talk about what? I'm fine._

He never comments further. Never pushes for answers.

_I'm_**_ fine_**_._

I can do that right now. I can smile and laugh, and he'll accept it. We'll just continue on as if nothing happened, as if that moment hadn't passed between us yet again, and it'll be all too easy to ignore the agonizing pang in my chest and to instead tease him mercilessly, making him blush that beautiful scarlet color again and again.

An endless cycle; one that never changes. Everything _is _okay. Nothing's wrong. Just keep smiling. Always keep smiling... You'd promised him you'd do that. To not give up. You _promised_, but—

_What're you standing around for, dumbass? Run, boy, _**_run_**_. _

Gil, blood-stained teeth and a manic glint in his crimson eyes that try to hide the fear. A fuse being lit. He doesn't stop to think about it, just does it. He doesn't want to die alone, but he will. For me. He'll die for me because _someone_ has to make it all worth it, and he can't be the one to do that anymore. So he lights the fuse and gives me a chance to escape Death's grip again. Always escaping...

_YOU BASTARD! IT'S YOUR FUCKING FAULT THAT SHE'S DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! _**_YOU_**_! YOU FUCKING LET HER DIE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! HOW **COULD** YOU?!_

Daan, battered and bruised. His leg's broken from when he tried jumping down too high in a fit of pure panic when he tried reaching Emma. Would kill me right now if he could stand, never mind that he's being held back by Francis and Gil. Rage. So much _rage_. And hatred. All directed right at me with furious olive-green eyes that look crazed in their intensity. I don't blame him though. I just wish Francis and Gil would let him go already. I deserve his anger. I deserve his hatred. I deserve his punishment. I'll never forgive myself. I'll never forget.

_Antonio, watch ou— !_

Emma, her own olive-green eyes, so similar to her brother's as they widen in shock, a piercing scream ripping from her throat. Rotten teeth tearing into pale flesh. So much red staining the concrete beneath us. I can't move fast enough. Their skulls are breaking beneath the pipe in my hands until my muscles start shaking, but still I _can't move **fast enough**_. My screams fall on deaf ears. _EMMA! _Too late. _NO, YOU FUCKERS, NO! __STAY AWAY FROM HER! **NO**!_ Strong arms hold me back as I struggle against them even as they drag me away. Can't hear anything but the screaming. Can do nothing but watch until there's nothing left but a green ribbon drenched in blood on the floor.

_Don't you _**_dare_**_ give up! Emma was **not** your fault, do you hear me? Promise me, Antonio. Promise me you'll never give up! That you'll never stop smiling!_

I...

_**Promise me**, Antonio!_

I...I _can't_! Francis, I'm sorry, I _can't_ keep—!

"_Antonio!_"

Lovino's panicked voice slices through my mind and it feels like breaking free through the surface after drowning, greedily gasping in lungfuls of air and being able to hear everything around me in sudden, stark relief where it was once muffled and dull. I can hear the same song playing in the background and it's never sounded sweeter, even amongst the ruins of this store in this random abandoned mall. Maybe that's what makes it sound so sweet to begin with.

The grip on my neck is almost painful, his blunt nails biting into my skin and I immediately arch my neck and press back into it, letting the pain help ground me as I roughly swallow down the huge lump in my throat and focus on breathing deeply through my nose. In and out, in and out.

"I-I can't keep doing this…," I grit out weakly, I don't know exactly where it comes from but once it does, I grab onto his arm with both hands to keep him _there_, my fingers gripping hard enough that it's sure to leave bruises. Surprisingly (or maybe not), Lovino doesn't move away and simply _lets_ me, though I feel the hard, wiry muscle underneath my fingertips involuntarily tense at the unexpected grip and I'm reminded yet again that this man is far from _weak._ Maybe that's what gives me the strength to keep on going. "I-I can't…I can't keep smiling and acting like nothing's wrong. They're...dead. They're _all dead_. So why? Why am **_I_ **still here? They say you eventually run out of luck, but—," A shudder wracks through my frame and I force the rest of the words out, even as they're practically choking me in their grip. "I'm still waiting my turn. I-I'm still waiting to die, and I…I don't know why. Why do **_I_ **always have to watch as everyone I love _dies_?"

There's more that but I can't find it in me to say it out loud, though Lovino doesn't say a word, he...he gives me this leveled _look_ and I finally relent with a small whisper, my voice cracking pathetically.

"It should've been me, Lovino…**_I_** should be dead. Not them."

Silence. One heartbeat. Two. Until...

"I was bit by a geek on my way home from the ER. I thought it was just some crazy homeless guy, you know?" Lovino says seemingly at random, his eyes completely impassive, and it throws me so completely through a loop that I don't know _what_ to do. How to feel. But then his hand squeezes the back of my neck just enough to ground me firmly to the present again, his body continuing to neither move towards me or away. His tone though... his tone is hollow, and it's far more calming than it had any right to be, despite the absurdity of what he's saying and the randomness of it all. I furrow my eyes in confusion because well...if he was bit, then that would mean he should be…he_ should _be…

He seems to guess what I'm thinking because his eyes crinkle at the corners, almost as if he's smiling in amusement before it disappears from his features without a trace. "It was before shit really hit the fan, so I didn't realize it was a geek until much later. But when we finally figured out that the world was going to hell, my brother's boyfriend was too hesitant to kill me. It'd been a good 48 hours by then, so he believed it meant that I was immune. He didn't want to hurt my brother by believing otherwise."

Lovino pauses for a moment, eyes becoming glassed over as they go stare at something right below my right eye, his tone turning cold and indifferent.

"I thought I was saving him. He was drowning. I'm his older brother... I'm suppose to protect him. Should've known it was too good to be true… that I was immune." His fingers twitch ever so slightly that I almost don't feel it. Almost. "I can't remember why he was so close to the river to begin with, or how he fell in, just that he _did_. By the time I was able to pull him out, his heart had already stopped, so I didn't think twice when I started administering CPR. I don't know how much time passed, but it had to have been hours because Ludwig had come back from his supply run and he's the one that tore me away from my brother. That's when it happened." A sigh, harsh and full of regret passes between us then. "I used to hate Ludwig, but I can't tell you for the life of me _why_. Maybe it was because, deep down, I thought he was taking away my only support, my family. I don't know. It's so fucking _petty_ now that I think about it because he… he didn't deserve to die the way he did, devoured alive by a monster wearing my brother's face."

Lovino glances back up to look me in the eye and I watch silently as they become hardened. Not a moment later his hand finally lets go of me as he slowly removes himself from my grip, and I can't help but feel a bit off-kilter when he takes several steps back.

But I keep looking him in the eye and drop my hands down from his arm, letting him go without a word. Whatever _this _is needed to be said, that much is clear.

Even if I feel like my world is starting to shift without him there grounding me.

"You know... you've never asked me _why _I always wear a surgical mask. Why I refuse to take it off when you're around, but I know you've _wondered_. How can you not? Were you afraid to ask me? Afraid of the answer, maybe?"

I don't respond —there's nothing to really_ say_— I honestly hadn't put much thought into it before. Not really. He probably won't believe me, but I just assumed that he was an extreme germaphobe or something. Why would I think anything different? If he's saying what I think he's saying...well, before now I didn't even think such a thing was possible. I'm still not completely sure if I do. But... I'm certainly starting to realize just how fragile this balancing act between us actually is. How precariously we've been sitting on the knife's edge this whole time...

Lovino finally stops walking back away from me until he's a good 10 or so feet away, and I watch, utterly amazed, when his fingers deftly loosen the drawstrings of the surgical mask before pulling it off his face.

"I'm what you'd call a 'carrier.' I spread the infection like any other geek, but have atypical symptoms." A cruel smirk twists his lips, his eyes losing any traces of residual warmth until only the pain remains. "Can't you tell?"

I can't, and I guess that's the whole point. But unlike the freak he's trying to make himself out to be, all I can see before me is a man who's far more beautiful now than I could even imagine, and it isn't at all because of his cute button nose, or his full, smooth-looking lips that are finally being revealed to me.

No, he's so remarkable because of just how _raw _he looks, his soul laid out bare and bleeding before me. He's allowing me to _see_ him, gifting me with everything that he is, without any more barriers between us. Despite the possibility of making me run away in fear or even disgust. He's returning my own vulnerability in kind and it's wretchedly beautiful… Even as I watch him simultaneously prepare himself for a rejection that'll never come.

In that moment, that's when I finally allow myself to _see _and it's clear as day to me, this normally complicated man with the most peculiar mannerisms now incredibly easy for me to keep up with for once.

It's so blatantly obvious now... I'm not the only one barely living and wondering _why:_ _w__hy _I'm the last one standing when everyone around me dies when it should've been me. Always should've been _me_. And having that very pain being reflected back is somehow so entirely freeing that it's _absurd._ This huge weight is somehow a lot easier to manage simply because _finally_ someone understands what I'm feeling. Lovino _knows_. Knows what it's like to lose everything until you've got nothing left but pain and regret.

Francis never understood that...not really. He couldn't. Neither could Gil. Neither had the guilt of Emma's death weighing down on their shoulders. Neither blamed themselves when Daan disappeared that very night, never to be heard or seen alive again.

Neither of them even _acknowledged_ the tall blonde walker the very next day, the one sluggishly limping in the distance, a blue and white-striped scarf hanging around its neck that looked eerily familiar.

But Lovino... Lovino understands.

We're the same, him and me... We both should've died a long time ago, and yet it was everyone else who suffered dearly for it.

Loneliness is a really funny thing...it comes in many shapes and forms, but no matter what it's one of the most draining things to endure. Whether you're truly alone or in a room full of people doesn't matter. I can't help but wonder if that's why he's never asked me where I came from, or if I intended to leave and when that'd be.

Huh...t-that's really...

That's when the laughter starts bubbling up in my chest until it bursts out loudly, probably way more loudly than it should be, and the amazing thing is that it's entirely _genuine_. Tears are actually streaming down my face and I can't remember the last time I laughed so openly and honestly, without worrying if it sounded too fake, or if it was real enough to fool Francis or Gil, but it's not. It's real. And I _can't stop_. Tears continue running down my cheeks and my sides start to ache, but I keep laughing, though I try my best to settle down when my chest starts throbbing sharply in protest.

"W-W-We— ," I have to stop to take a deep breath, quickly gulping down another fit of laughter and taking yet another deep, shaky, breath before looking up and grinning at the now entirely bewildered man, "W-We're really fucked up, aren't we?" My face starts to hurt when my grin widens, no doubt on the borderline of being manic but for once I don't care.

There's no more reason to pretend. Not anymore, and not with him. He _understands_.

Lovino stares at me for another shocked moment before slowly relaxing and giving me a small, shy smile. One so undeniably beautiful and _relieved_, despite the slight disbelief, that it makes me want to kiss those very lips, even with the guaranteed death sentence that would come with it. That still doesn't stop me from fantasizing about it though. Repeatedly.

Such a beautiful and strong man, and he...fuck, he can't be taken away. _They_ can't take him away from me.

He's not like everyone else... The damned Infection can't take him away too. Not really.

I'm strangely calm, my mind at peace for the first time in years, even when there are so many things left unsaid between us, the emptiness palpable in the air from loose ends that'll need to eventually be tied up.

But…it's a start.

That's when I hear a distant crashing from somewhere outside the store and just like that our bubble is broken. No doubt the walkers in the mall heard my earlier outburst and are now looking to investigate the sound.

I turn back and watch as Lovino places the surgical mask firmly back into place before making his way to the stereo.

"Guess we'll have to dance some other time…," he mutters to himself, and I smile at him, though his back is facing me. Something tells me he isn't just talking about the dance, and I barely limp towards him when he unplugs the mp3 player from the stereo, noting happily how he makes sure to keep himself closer to me than strictly necessary when we quietly exit the mall together.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I started to overthink this chapter _way _too much, so I took a deep breath. Stopped. And simply posted it. So apologies for any errors/mistakes but thank you for understanding! You're the best. Heart.

* * *

_About Three Weeks after the Last Chapter…_

-o0o-

"See? And _you _said you couldn't do it!"

I roll my eyes and pretend to be thoroughly annoyed, despite feeling nothing but amusement when Antonio happily leads me around the condo's living room in a simple ballroom dance. Without warning, Antonio quickly switches our positions, making me the lead and smiles down brightly at me.

"Okay, your turn again! Are you sure you've never done this before?"

I smirk at him but don't say anything yet, this time leading _him_ around the room while trying to do steps that won't tweak his bad leg the wrong way. As expected though, Antonio doesn't do anything to further aggravate the muscle, what I found to be his intimate understanding of his own body helping him to avoid any unnecessary damage.

"I used to suffer from Choreia as a child, so for whatever reason my father had me take Tarantella lessons when I was old enough. But I haven't danced it since I was 10," I admit, swiftly changing my arm positions in order to prove my point, finding myself unexpectedly charmed when he effortlessly follows my lead perfectly.

Antonio hums in acknowledgement, closing his eyes and quietly letting me lead him back to ballroom dancing, figuring it would be easier on his calf muscles. Despite insisting it felt fine, there was still no way to tell for sure, and I didn't want to push it.

Heh. I _know_ my steps are off, and my feet aren't exactly where they should be all the time, but he doesn't bother to correct me either, clearly content with me taking the lead... It's nice.

"You dance like you're a professional…," I muse distractedly, taking in that moment to stare at his face, one of the most genuinely content expressions I've ever seen on him. I remember how in the beginning, when we first spoke to each other, how magnetic I found him, instantly in awe about how he always smiled and looked perfectly relaxed in any situation.

It wasn't long though until I realized that it never changed… _he _never changed. It was like he was stuck in some perpetual loop. He obviously didn't come to DC alone; no one was _that_ stupid. But he never mentioned anyone else, although I hate to admit that I didn't want to particularly ask either.

But _no one_ could be that happy all the damned time, not unless they were burying everything deep down inside. Even Feliciano had his off days, the cheerful idiot, but as the weeks went by, Antonio continued to act like he didn't have a care in the world. Then there was that… _something_ that lurked within his eyes that made me nervous… scared, even. Not for me but for him. Whatever it was, I could sense it eating away at him, and I had no fucking clue what to do about it besides wait it out with him until he finally snapped. And even then I wasn't sure what I'd do.

But…it somehow worked out just fine. At least I think it did. I guess I got lucky... I didn't expect myself to so willingly open up to him, but that intense gut feeling must've been right and it was the "right" thing to do; what he needed to hear. There's a definite softness in his eyes nowadays… a certain level of peace in his gaze that wasn't there before.

The darkness is still there, but it's…different? Softer now, maybe. Not as jagged as before.

Something gently grazes against my forehead and I start when I realize with a furious blush that it's Antonio's lips that are brushing up against me, the affectionate gesture effortless (s-such a touchy, bastard…). He leans back to give me a quick lopsided smile before switching us again so that he's leading, giving me some time to gather my thoughts.

"Actually I was a professional dancer~! Well…," Antonio frowns thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowed and looking at a fixed point behind me in concentration, "I_ kinda_ was?" The odd statement —question?— gives me the final push to recollect myself, the fast '_thump_' of my heart slowing down in wry amusement.

I let out a harsh snort.

"What do you mean you '_kinda_' were, jackass?"

This grow-ass man, honest to god, _pouts_ at me.

"That language is so not cute, Lovi…"

"So? Bite me," I retort back without missing a beat, even though I knew it was hardly a good comeback.

I resist the twitch of my lips that wanna smile at him. Even though he can't see it, Antonio seems to know anyway, grinning at me good-naturedly.

"Ha, well…I had an audition for a dance school in New York, but never got the chance," he finally answers, seemingly ignoring my previous statement and slowing our movements to very basic steps, his mind obviously wandering in the past. The now-familiar itching sensation at the forefront of my brain comes back full force.

"What school?" I blurt out before harshly biting down on my lower lip to keep myself from asking anything more personal. Don't push, don't push, don't push…

Antonio's now slowed us down so that we're simple swaying back and forth, his eyes having a far-away look to them. Before I can even begin to mentally panic that I've asked too much, too soon, the life returns to his eyes. Although something about it is nervous…cautious, maybe?

"Julliard," he admits slowly, his tone for some reason almost curious in nature. That's when I more easily see the darkness in his eyes. There's a tense moment when I simply_ watch _but then it shifts away and I let out a deep breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. The darkness is still there, yeah, but it's no worse than it usually is… Antonio seems to come to the same conclusion, smiling at me in relief.

Then his words finally catch up to me.

"You went to _Julliard_?!" I sputter, staring up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. God_damn_, I mean… I can tell he's good. More than good, even. But —

_…_

_Damn_.

Antonio actually _blushes_, shifting from foot to foot and looking so incredibly uncomfortable, though refusing to turn away from my gaze despite looking like he wanted nothing more.

"I didn't _actually _go there, remember?" He mutters defensively (Why the flying _fuck _was he being 'defensive' about this?!), his shifting and twitching increasing along with his discomfort, "My audition was in January, so it didn't end up happening."

The way he says it gives me pause and I frown at the nagging feeling in my chest.

January… Wait.

Does he mean when _It_ happened? It had to have been…2 years almost, right?

But _that _would mean he must've been there when...

Antonio's answering smile is grim.

"Yeah…we barely made it out of the city alive. Gil twisted up his ankle pretty bad too, but it could've been much worse." Antonio pauses, looking thoughtful again before adding, like he was unsure of himself, "Thankfully we ran into Daan and Emma on our way out. I don't think we would've made it out of the city otherwise."

I remain frozen in place, not knowing what I should do or say. This is the first time he's ever uttered their names, and I'm not at all sure what I'm suppose to be doing now.

We haven't talked about it again since that day, and despite the curiosity constant itching at me, wondering what happened to the people in Antonio's past, I accepted that it simply wasn't my place to ask and I'd probably never know.

There was no such thing as a peaceful death in this new world, it was a luxury that was rare even in the old one, so was it _really _worth it to force him to recount their deaths? All for curiosity's sake?

I've...I've _seen_ what happens when he's forced to remember, and the look on his face, I-I...

Besides, he… he's here. Here, with me, despite knowing what I am, what I'm capable of doing. The least I can do is return the favor and avoid being unnecessarily cruel to him. I…I can't do that to him. I don't want him to leave, can't _imagine _being all alone again. I don't think I can anymore.

"You would've liked Emma…," Antonio suddenly mutters with such conviction that I refocus to find him smiling at me, and though it's so painfully sad, it holds an overwhelming fondness to it. "She would've liked you too, I think." He lets out a sharp bark of laughter then, the sound a touch too broken to be considered happy. "She would've cooed and doted on you like the big sister she'd declare herself to be, all the while making sly remarks that would've made you blush scarlet despite their seeming innocent nature."

Our arms are still around each other but we've stopped moving, and I listen in rapt attention as Antonio takes a cautious pause. Gauging his own darkness to make sure he hasn't pushed himself too far, always _always _gauging…

"Daan acted like some stereotypical, hipster, stuck-up prick but he was a good man," Antonio continues at last, his tone somehow coming across just as fond as with Emma despite the harsh words. Like with Emma though, there's so much _sadness_ laced in his tone that my heart clenches though I keep quiet and try to keep my expression neutral. "He acted like he didn't care about anyone except himself, but he was always the first one to defend and take care of the rest of us. Especially Emma. She meant the world to him." Antonio smiles to himself at some distant memory, and I can't help but crack a smile myself when I notice how he looks more amused now. I can still see the undertones of pain in it, but it isn't nearly as bad as before. "He was such a doting mother hen though! _But_ he'd probably smack you upside the head if you told him that. Still! It was always nag, nag, nag, nag, _nag _for us to do this, do that. 'Stop being a fucking moron and sit your ass back down before you pass out, idiot'! For some reason I feel like you two would actually get along; I don't know why." Antonio chuckles at that, the earlier pain almost forgotten the more he talks. "Call it a gut feeling."

"Oh, and _Gil_!" Antonio is practically gushing now, without any regret or pain in his eyes and for the second time since meeting him I'm struck by how _happy _he looks, and knowing it's actually genuine this time makes it even more beau— "Gil was a_ riot_! Always coming up with the craziest schemes! You probably wouldn't have liked him though." Antonio doesn't look at all bothered by that thought, continuing to smile down at me. "He was a lot to take in; tended to rub people the wrong way. Even Daan, for all his cool attitude and indifference, looked like he wanted to throttle him_ at least_ once a day. Only Francis could curb his enthusiasm and make it somewhat tolerable. Or so I've been told."

Antonio's smile then becomes more somber in nature, his voice becoming quieter and I frown in confusion at the sudden change of tone.

"Francis was…Francis was the one who encouraged me to pursue dancing. He truly believed I could get into Julliard, and eventually I started to believe it too."

There's something in his voice that gives me pause, understanding just out of my reach before—

Oh.

That's when the light bulb goes off my head and my eyes go involuntary wider at the realization.

_Oh_…

Antonio quickly seems to recover himself though and his smile turns more happy again, although there's still that edge of somberness to it.

"We wouldn't have met Gil if it wasn't for that though. We met him at a dance camp in Germany when we were…16, I think?"

Antonio doesn't elaborate any further on Francis and I don't ask, instead focusing on the pursing of his lips when he tries to remember, the action having absolutely no right to be as stupidly cute as it is.

"They sound like good people," I say honestly after a beat. I watch in dismay to find the darkness return to his eyes at my words, slightly stronger than before. My fingers tighten into his arms. It's inevitable, this darkness, but it doesn't make it any less unwanted.

"They were…," Antonio agrees, tightening his own hold on me and pulling me that much closer to him, resting his forehead against my own.

The silence between us is calming, comfortable even, before Antonio raises his head up thoughtfully.

"You said you were coming home from the ER when you were bit… What were you there for? If you don't mind me asking."

I can't but smile a little at how cautiously he asks me, all the while sounding so concerned for me, even though it was years ago. It's kinda cute. Stupid and unnecessary, but cute.

"I was just some intern who worked there at the time."

Antonio's eyebrows raise, obviously impressed and my cheeks start to flush at the blatant admiration in his gaze.

"_Wooow_…so did you want to be a doctor then?"

I cough a little uncomfortably.

"Sort of, uh... forensic pathology became the end goal, really."

Antonio frowns a little in confusion.

"And that's…?"

I roll my eyes in mock annoyance, but am glad for the distraction.

"Basically a forensic pathologist would find out why a person died when it was particularly violent or suspicious. They looked for signs of foul play. So although I wasn't aiming to be a doctor in the traditional sense, I still needed to go to medical school and get my M.D."

Antonio blinks at me slowly.

"That's…not what I expected," he admits, looking kinda sheepish. I shrug, not at all offended. It wasn't exactly surprising. No one ever expected it from me whenever the subject came up.

"I've always wanted to go to medical school, but when I was in the ER I found out that I didn't particularly like treating the living, so it seemed like a good fit," I explain simply, fully aware that now it was out in the open, maybe I'd get the same blank_ look_ that I got from everyone else who I explained this to before. I sigh, more disappointed than I'd like to admit when Antonio looks at me in that strangely familiar way, the image cropping up all the unpleasant memories associated with it. "Look, I know it's not exactly _normal_ but —"

"Oh, no! Sorry, sorry!" Antonio apologizes immediately, looking thoroughly chastised with himself. He must be thinking of something very unpleasant because he winces violently at the thought. "Just —" Antonio takes a short moment to collect himself and take a small breath, his tone unreadable to me. Or maybe I just didn't want to read it at that moment. "It's just especially hard to imagine why anyone would want to work with dead bodies when there are…you know, walkers roaming around now. And I don't know. I'm just, well… you continue to prove me wrong about just how strong you can be, and it's so…" Antonio trails off, giving me a truly apologetic look as he adds, "I didn't mean to criticize you or your choice… I'm…I'm sorry."

Despite the initial hurt, I let his apology soothe me, letting it take the edge off the harsh sting from before.

"Yeah, yeah…," I mutter, giving him a small smile to show that he was forgiven, knowing he would get it even if he couldn't see it. Antonio doesn't disappoint this time and returns my smile in thanks.

"So why medical school?" Antonio asks curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Just… you _know_," I say, none too subtly avoiding actually answering the question while trying to push down the hollowness carving its way back into my chest. It's more intense than it usually is, having been stamped down from being distracted by Antonio for so long.

I…as _fair_ as it would be to answer him honestly, after he just opened himself up to me, I…I-I'm just not ready for that. I can't talk about Feliciano and I just... I can't. Not yet.

Feliciano... I can't think think about him without seeing all the blood and gore that painted his face when he turned.

I…I-I wanna think about Feliciano as more than being that damned geek who killed Ludwig, but I…_ Fuck_…

Antonio stares at me like he wants to push but thankfully seems to think better of it.

"You would make a _very _sexy doctor," Antonio decides to randomly voice instead, and I sputter out a surprisingly loud laugh at such an absurd statement, the hollowness filling up again with pure warmth. I eagerly let the warmth continue to fill up the empty space until I wonder if I'll actually burst from it.

"Oh, so you're one of _those _people," I tease, laughing more than I mean to.

I can't find it in me to care too much.

I fucking _squeak _**_dammit_** when Antonio places a surprise kiss right below the crook of my jaw, in _no way _letting out such a completely undignified sound.

"F-F-_Fucker_!" I gasp out, laughing even more when he moves his hands to my back to keep me from getting away from his unrelenting lips as slight stubble tickles into my oversensitive neck.

"I'm sorry~ What was that~?" Antonio "apologizes", not looking the least bit sorry as he continues to rub into my neck like some fucking overbearing cat.

"Y-You're g-g-g-gonna _pay _for t-this_, _bastard!" I try again, jerking violently in another fit of laughter when Antonio starts using his hands to lightly graze them along my ticklish side. It's not long though before he finally relents and grants me mercy, and I gulp in a quick breath of air in case he decides to change his mind. My sides are noticeably sore now and I let out a breathless laugh when he still nuzzles into my throat, adding more pressure so it won't tickle, his hand resting on my hip and rubbing absent circles into the shirt covering them.

"I _love _hearing you laugh…," he drawls, his accent becoming more pronounced, the words languidly rolling off the tongue. I can't help the shiver that runs down my spine at how the sound curls pleasantly along the shell of my ear, and I swear I can _feel_ him smirk, even though his lips aren't even close to touching me.

"Your rib—"

"It's _fine_," Antonio insists with a low growl, and I don't know what I expect to come out of my mouth when I open it, but it certainly isn't the surprised gasp when he gently pushes a hand into the small of my back to grind our hips together. My whole body is thrumming alive with the need for him to _keep fucking _**_touching_**_ me don't stop, dammit_, letting him nudge me backwards until my back hits a wall.

My breaths are too hot and short, trapped underneath the surgical mask that's still held securely on face and Antonio pushes even _further_ into me, sliding a leg between my own while carding a hand through my hair.

Sparks of pleasure alight my skull with each strand of hair that he gently tugs when he curls those long fingers around them, and everything is too much and not enough, and I can distantly hear myself moaning loudly when his other hand goes to grab my leg so that he can hoist it up and wrap it around his waist, sliding even closer to me and rubbing his hard length against my own in a slow, steady rhythm.

"_Fuck_!" I hiss, not knowing what to grab onto but knowing that I somehow needed to get him _closer_. I don't fucking know _why _I decide to do it without any warning but lifting my other leg around his waist seemed like a perfectly good idea.

Antonio...well, isn't _exactly_ prepared for that because he immediately stumbles down rather harshly on one knee to try and keep us from _completely_ falling onto the ground.

It's like a cold bucket of water being dumped on me, chilling me to my core, and I start sputtering apologies profusely, refusing to look at anything but him as I try to get out of his grip so that I could crawl in some hole already and just die of embarrassment.

Antonio just _laughs though _— that complete fucker! — and I start struggling even more before he rumbles fond words into my ear.

"_Relax_, querido. It's just me. You just surprised me, that's all." Antonio leans back to show me that he genuinely means that, letting me read the truth of his words in his face. "If you can't laugh then you're taking it way too seriously," he adds teasingly, going to rub his nose against where mine would be while shifting around so that he's now sitting more comfortably on the hardwood floor with me perched on his lap, his hands moving to my shoulder blades to rub soothing circles into them. "It's suppose to be enjoyable; fun even. Especially when you do it with someone you love, you know?"

The words come out like it's so simple, but it lacks that condescending tone that I almost expect to come from such a confident declaration, and—

Wait.

Did he just say he—?

My suddenly dry throat clicks when I gulp heavily, and I look into eyes that stare evenly back into me, so open and sure and real that I…_fuck_.

That. I want it. Want _this_. Want what I'm positive he's saying. So fucking much, it physically _hurts._

I desperately grind my hips down into his and watch as Antonio's eyes flutter closed, a ragged moan tearing itself from his throat as he now moves his hold so that he's grasping me from behind my shoulders with an iron grip.

As if I would try to get away…as if I'd want to.

I push forward and hide my face behind his ear, a distant part of me remembering to keep my mouth away from him just in case even as I'm losing myself to the sensations, rolling my hips down sharply in an unsteady rhythm.

Like before Antonio seems to be more than content with me leading, unabashedly moaning in my ear between my name being slurred. _Something _is missing though and I growl in utter frustration, rutting against him even harder in order to try and find what I can't name but _need_. Antonio gasps loudly, his grip bruising.

"Por favor, mi amor. Perítame— Perítame…"

I groan again in frustration at the stumbling rush of words that I couldn't understand.

"D-Don't…Don't understand, what —?"

Antonio brings his nails down harshly against my back and I swear I almost white out at the sensation, despite it being dulled through my shirt.

"Let me?" he grounds out, his body trembling with barely concealed restraint. It's...kinda a weird question... Not gonna lie. But I _think _I know what he's asking for, and maybe it's _because_ he asks, or maybe it's because I'm positive that if I say 'no' he'll stop whatever he wants to do, but either way it gives me the final push to let go and give a single, sharp nod of my head. I'm barely able to complete the action before I find myself suddenly flipped onto my back, his arms cushioning me from what probably would've been a really rough maneuver otherwise. I involuntarily shiver as I watch Antonio loom over me, his pupils blown so wide I can barely see the green anymore.

Then Antonio is _there_, kissing and sucking on my throat while he pulls away one hand to pull up my shirt to no doubt yank it off.

"_Fucking hell_, Antonio! Wait! My mask! You can't —!" I groan out weakly, my body screaming for him not to stop while also begging him to understand, the small but persistently nagging part of my mind desperately trying to grab hold and keep us from doing something irrevocable.

Antonio grunts in response but obeys and stops yanking my shirt up, instead using the same hand to deftly unbutton my jeans while bending down to now suck and lick all over my chest in random places, derailing all reason and thoughts from my mind. I can't stop the incoherent moans from escaping when his lips wrap themselves around a nipple and it's all too much, it's too —

An embarrassingly loud moan rips out from my throat when he swiftly reaches into my boxers and wraps a warm, calloused hand around my cock, tugging it out and giving it firm, sloppy strokes.

"Que hermoso…," Antonio groans out against my chest before moving up to nuzzle his nose affectionately along my sweaty hair as he expertly strokes me each time I thrust up into his hand. The tightness in my groin coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. "Mi tesoro… mi vida…"

It happens without warning. Sharp. Vivid. And I come with a cry, my whole body arching up violently in release as Antonio gentles his strokes to prolong the pleasure. It almost feels like I'm drowning: my body becoming a live-wire and gasping for air, the sounds being drowned out by my own heartbeat. I'm vaguely aware of the moaning in my ear though as something hard rubs repeatedly on my leg before stopping abruptly.

Coming back is surprisingly faster than I thought it'd be, feeling myself slam back into into my body and slumping down onto the floor from the force of it. I take deep, harsh breaths through my nose as I stare up at the ceiling in unseeing awe.

W-We actually… I-I mean, yeah, we've "kissed" before, if you could call it that since our lips never touched, but…but _that_ — w-w-without anything bad happening? Did that— does that mean I can _actually _have this...?

The weight above me shifts itself off of me and to the side and I blink with a start, looking down just in time to see Antonio stretch up to kiss me on the cheek with an affectionate smile. His wavy hair is in even more disarray now, the length in desperate need of being cut and the sweat making his bangs cling messily to his forehead. Antonio's cheeks are flushed a dark red and my entire chest cavity suddenly feels way too small.

In that moment, I wish it was simple: I wish so desperately I could kiss him, without this wretched mask practically glued to my face. I wish I was _normal_. But I guess if I was "normal" then would I have even met Antonio? Would I have been able to _save him_? If I wasn't infected? The thought leaves a foul, bitter taste in my mouth and I _do_ understand why it needs to be this way_._ I do. This…whatever 'this' is, it'll never be 'normal.' But…but it's still _mine, _and isn't this more that I ever expected? Could ever even hope for?

It's good enough.

It has to be.

"We _really_ need to cut your hair…," I croak out, moving the sweaty bangs from his eyes with trembling fingers. Antonio laughs, a truly carefree and wonderful sound, but doesn't say anything more as he goes to give me one last kiss at the corner of my eye before kneeling up to yank his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. I let my thoughts go blank while slowly trailing my eyes down his chest, ignoring the part where a blush is surely darkening across my cheeks at the same time.

R-Right, well….we should _definitely _plan more in advance next time so we can lose the shirts.

My eyes finally reach faint trail of hair that leads down right into his jeans and my blush somehow darkens even more at what I still haven't seen yet.

M-Maybe pants, too… I mean, who needs pants anyway, right? R-Right.

Antonio lets out a dark chuckle and my eyes immediately flit back up to see him watching me with a smirk, an all-too-knowing glint in his eyes.

"Next time," he promises, and I_ know_ he's not talking about my haircut comment. His smirk only grows wider when I sputter out some incoherent bullshit that sound weak even to me but my denials are cut short when he takes his shirt to clean what got onto my chest, before carefully peeling off my clothes.

There's…There's nothing sexual about it, even as he strips me bare while making sure my mask never once slips out of place, his actions so careful and gentle. When he's done he carries me to the mattress before quickly stripping himself of his own clothes — with none of the same care he previously used for me — before sliding in right behind me. He pulls my back to his chest and wriggles around so that one arm lies underneath my head to cushion it comfortably and wrapping the other around my waist, sighing in contentment against the back of my neck when he finally gets me exactly where he wants me.

"It's barely the afternoon, we still have shit we gotta do…," I mumble weakly, even as I yawn loudly and snuggle back into his heat, closing my eyes as I do so.

"That's why we're taking a quick siesta," he mutters back soothingly, the arm that's around my waist tightening its grip in order to secure me even closer to him.

I don't bother to ask what the fuck a siesta is before nodding off into the soft darkness.

-o0o-

**Translations:**

_Querido_ — masculine form of "darling" or "dear" in Spanish

_Por favor. mi amore. Perítame— Perítame… _— "Please, my love. Let me— Let me…" in Spanish

_Que hermoso — _masculine form of "how beautiful" in Spanish

_Mi tesoro _— "my treasure" in Spanish

_Mi vida_ — "my life" in Spanish


End file.
